


Experimental Procedures

by That1BadassBitch



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, cybernetic enhancements, experimental surgeries, i don't know what to tag this one with sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-17 14:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15463578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That1BadassBitch/pseuds/That1BadassBitch
Summary: Kay Michaels, decorated detective for the Detroit Police, Hank Anderson’s girlfriend, and a woman determined to do her best and protect her city. After an unexpected tragedy, she’s going to have to face all the challenges from before, with her difficulty up to 11-After all, with the struggles people are having about Androids, how else could they possibly feel about a colleague brought back from the dead with experimental cybernetic enhancements?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I'm fandom trash and no matter how I tried, I still couldn't hold off on writing for my new favorite video game.

“We’ll need you sign this, here… and here as well.”

“This is a lot more paperwork than I was expecting to see. I thought the ‘informed consent clause’ added to my will was all you needed.”

“Unfortunately, Cyberlife has recently been facing minor lawsuits from families claiming their loved ones were coerced into agreement, or that the clause was forged. We have to be extra careful. Just a couple more.”

The ginger snorted, twirling her pen around her fingers and pushing another printed page across the desk to the secretary- a very pretty android, a common but slightly older model, with perfect blonde hair pulled into a perfect bun and a no-nonsense set to her face. “Well I very much doubt any of my family still cares what happens to me, but fine.” Another pair of papers were laid in front of her, and she dutifully scribbled her name across the flagged lines, sitting back in her chair to twirl the pen more while the secretary gathered the papers and put them away in a manilla folder.

“One last thing- we need you to record a video statement confirming your decision and explaining it, for our records in case of a lawsuit as well as for yourself, in case anything happens to cause memory loss before or during operations.”

She groaned, but agreed anyway. The secretary’s LED blinked for a few seconds, then a hologram projected from the table, showing the recording had started. She leaned forward, glancing at her image- squished nose, round chin, light brown eyes, a sharp angle for a jaw- she settled for looking herself in the eye.

“My name is Kay Michaels, Detroit PD, and I am hereby consenting to allow Cyberlife to use me, my body, or my corpse as the case may come to be, to test their experimental procedures concerning cybernetic enhancement, in the case that I am severely injured or killed in the line of duty. I have been made aware of the risks, including PTSD, mutilation, and failure of the procedures to fix any injuries or revive me. And to me, if I need to see this in the future… You wanted to do EVERYTHING you could, to protect your city. You swore to give your life if it was necessary. I'm not all-in for people becoming immortal through enhancements, but you've got good morals and one hell of a backbone. This could give you a bit more time to serve your people. And if you're ever unsure, trust Hank. You two get mad as hell at each other sometimes, but you've kept each other on the right path. So trust him. And trust me- you’re good people. So get out there and prove it.”

\-----------

_ She was six, and she was climbing a tree, higher and higher, she could see all the way across town from here- but mom was yelling, she had to come down, okay okay but she climbed the highest, Jake couldn't say he beat her because he didn’t- her foot missed the branch and she slipped, fell, the ground rushed up and- her arm, her arm hurt and she was crying like a baby, she wasn't a baby but it hurt it hurt a lot and she was screaming- _

_ Screaming at her sister because god, Jen, couldn't she have five minutes to herself without her barging in like she didn't have her own room? Why did she need to take her makeup, she never wore any, it was a waste of time, just get out and leave her alone- _

_ Alone, in a new part of town, dirty and grimy and ugly and the people weren't the nicest but her parents had let her take one of the androids to help move in to her apartment, the little one she bought by herself with her own money because her parents were still upset that she wasn't going to go into banking like the rest of the family, and she smiled at Henry while they struggled to get her cheap third-hand couch up the stairs and through the door and he laughed back at her, the only friend she had left, and no, she wasn't alone just yet, but he would have to leave before sundown to get home- _

_ -home is not yours anymore, and you are never welcome to return, after you embarrassed us so thoroughly with that slanderous report you filed, how could you tell them we were skimming the accounts, we were going to be out millions- how could they expect her to lie on an official report for their sake, they were living on stolen money, they'd raised her on stolen money, she felt like she was going to be- _

_ Sick, hunched over the toilet with every heave even though she'd emptied her guts thoroughly, and Janet had a wet towel pressed to her head, comforting her, she didn't know how she'd learned to deal with too-drunk detectives but she appreciated it, could she believe the nerve of them, banning her from her childhood home, like she cared, she'd gotten here despite them not because, she didn't need them, never needed them or their approval, but it hurt, why wasn't she ever good enough, why wasn't she enough for them, what had she done so wrong growing up, why couldn't they love her for wanting to make a difference, for wanting to fight- _

_ -fight, he would get a fight, so she smashed her fist into his mouth as hard as she could, good for nothing lowlife drug selling son of a bitch, and he tried the charge her so she dropped her elbow on his spine but not quick enough, he knocked her flat on her back- _

_ -her back on the sheets and Hank’s hands were sliding up her sides under her shirt, he was moaning into her mouth when she ground against him, god he looked so gorgeous like this, half-lidded eyes full of- of- adoration, love maybe, breathing hard and only distracting her from getting his shirt off with more kissing, he was good at kissing, good at other things, and she cried out with his thrusts, heart as full as she was, saying his name like a prayer, Hank, Hank- _

 

_ “Hank! God dammit can't you listen to me just once-” _

_ “I'm not leaving you in here, it's a deathwish! The whole place is gonna come down on top of you-” _

_ “-I can't focus with you screaming at me! I almost have it, either be helpful and hold this or get out!” _

_ They needed that hard drive, it had everything on it- the damn smuggler had already blown his head off starting the fire. If they lost that hard drive, all those kidnapped people were gone, probably forever- they had to find them, these were her people and she wasn't going to let them down- _

_ “I got it! I got it, go, go, get out!” _

_ They sprinted for the stairs, her clutching the hard drive to her chest and him trying to keep hold of her arm- she tripped on the last step, ripping them apart, but she screamed at him to keep going, already on her feet again- the building groaned, but they were so close, the door was right there- _

_ The roof fell in, fire was everywhere- she'd dropped the hard drive, but she couldn't think about it through the pain, hurt, burning- she couldn't feel her arm except pain, her face was burning, she screamed but all it gave her was a mouthful of hot smoke, coals, ashes clogging her nose- she couldn't breathe- she was going to die here- No- _

 

_ “NO!” _

She shot upright, head swiveling and already she was scrambling to get up- there were people, surrounding her, surrounding the table- slab?- she was on, trying to stop her and keep her on the table-

_ What’s happening? Where am I- shit where's Hank? Did he make it out? _

“Detective Michaels! I understand you're confused, and probably scared, but you need to calm down or you are going to hurt yourself!”

She managed to lock her eyes on the face of- a doctor, of some kind- the woman speaking, who nodded and held her hands up placatingly. “That's it, breathe. You're alright now. I'm Dr. Phillips, these are my colleagues.” She gestured carefully at the rest of the room- five other people standing around in scrubs. “You were injured quite badly, detective. Do you remember the agreement you signed with Cyberlife?”

Cyberlife. Experimental procedures. “... yes. I… I signed up for post-trauma… post-trauma, experimental, surgeries. Did- I was… Hank. Is Hank okay? Did he make it out?”

She nodded, slowly stepping closer. “Yes, detective. Lieutenant Anderson made it out of the building safe. So did the hard drive you were trying to retrieve. He led the raid on the warehouse a week later. All the victims were accounted for.”

She sighed heavily with relief, slumping a bit into the wall. They'd done it, then. It wasn't a waste.

Dr. Phillips was close enough to put her hands on her biceps, and carefully pulled her forward. “Come sit back down, now. We still have some tests to run to make sure you aren't going to break yourself.” She obediently followed directions, letting the doctor lead her to the table and hoisting herself onto the surface again. “First things, can you tell me your Name? How old you are, where you live?”

“My name’s Kay. Kay Michaels, born Kayla.”

\-----

They were talking on the other side of the glass. If she focused she could hear it, catch most of the words, but she wasn't sure she wanted to. It always seemed to be the same thing- arguing about whether she counted as a human.

“Squeeze. And release. Very good. And again, squeeze. And release.”

She was more than 80% biocomponents now. Her right arm, both of her legs, her ribs, pelvis, all damaged beyond rescue. Even her skull had been half carved out, computer chips and processing folded into her brain matter to make up for what was damaged in the collapse.

“Touch each light as it appears- both hands, same time please.”

She was honestly surprised by how clear her memory was. She'd expected to have black spots, things that were only vague sense memories, but she remembered almost everything. Especially about the collapse.

“Reflexes are good, control is good. Catch this.”

Her hand snapped up to catch the pen the woman had tossed at her, twirling it around her fingertips with ease before handing it back. She took more notes, then assured she’d return soon and left, the door opening for a few seconds and letting in a quick burst of full volume arguing before closing off again. After a moment, she picked up a spare pen from the table, and twirled it some more. It was soothing- an old habit, a fidget she’d never kicked, and it made her feel human when all the testing and questions and debating over her head made her start to wonder.

It was still strange to have a clock in her eyeball, but it told her she'd been sitting there for twelve minutes before the door opened again. The argument was over, for now. A vaguely familiar woman stepped into her line of sight- an older black woman, dressed in a professional but still obviously expensive navy suit. “Hello, Detective Michaels. How are you feeling?”

“Frustrated,” she answered honestly, spinning the pen on a fingertip like a helicopter blade. “Tired. Anxious. Could be a lot better, would you like me to be specific?”

The older woman took a seat. “I would, yes. What's troubling you?”

She gave a forced laugh. “Easier to list what's not. I'm locked up, doing test after test, answering the same questions and making the same motions and following the same directions over and over. I have a computer in my head and I'm still not sure how I feel about that, but I can't really ignore it because it's always showing tiny notes about everything I see, plus the clock in the corner that never goes away. I keep forgetting that I don't actually have a heart anymore- it's just a thyrium pump keeping the biocomponents running and a constant-flow filter running fake blood to my human pieces. I've scared myself  _ sixteen times  _ because I couldn't feel my pulse, and again a few seconds later when I find one in my  _ stomach.  _ They said that my biocomponents weren't given real feeling, just pressure sensors, but I still  _ feel  _ them, and it still hurts when they jab me. I know that I don't actually have to eat, I just need a fresh quart of thyrium every week or so and a nutrient injection in the- fucking- valve in my skull everyday, but I'm- god, I'm  _ hungry,  _ I don't have a stomach but I'm hungry, all the time. And I think the most directly upsetting thing, is that these ASSHOLES-” she turned to raise her voice at the glass wall, filling the word with malice, “-keep discussing whether I count as human or android, and insist that I don't have any rights because I belong to the company, and they talk about it  _ right in front of me,  _ like I'm not even here.” She turned back to the woman- Amanda, she remembered, probably- and matched her gaze. “I need to go home, I need to see my boyfriend who hasn't seen me since I was carted off in an ambulance, I need to get back to my job. I agreed to these procedures because it would give me a chance to keep doing my job, and keep protecting my people. And I can't do that if im locked up in a lab.”

Amanda nodded, very slowly. She was quiet, looking over to the glass wall contemplatively, then looking back at the detective. Finally, she spoke. “I'll make sure you're released soon. I have a few questions, first, and we'll need to do a few last tests with your android companion to ensure neither of you is going to suffer any extra difficulties away from the labs, but I believe I could have you both released for the precinct sometime tomorrow.”

Kay’s shoulders slouched considerably, and she caught the pen as it rolled off her finger. “Ask away, if it'll get me out of here.”

“How would you describe sensations, now that you have such a high percentage of android components?”

Those weren’t the sort of questions she was expecting. “Uh… more detailed, I guess? Like, I can feel the fabric of my shirt, and its mostly a background thing now, but I’m still really aware of it? I know exactly how soft it is and I’m always… aware of it. I used to get dressed some mornings and forget what jacket I was wearing halfway through the day, but I don’t think that could happen any more. And smells, too. I can put them on a back burner, but I’m always aware of the composition of the air and the scents I smell. But they don’t actually feel or smell different, it’s just… an extra sense, I guess.”

Amanda nodded again, and reached out to grab her hand. “How would you describe my hand?”

“Warm. Soft. Firm grip. Not a physical worker, but a determined one, and confident. Then there’s the extra bits. It’s not even a pop-up anymore, I just know them. I think my back-robo-brain is trying to match your brand of hand lotion, and I know the exact amount of force you’re exerting on my hand, and I know your palms don’t sweat much because I’m apparently able to sense all of your sweat glands which is really  _ fucking _ weird.”

She quirked a hint of a smile, and released her hand. “How about emotional senses? Do emotions feel different now?”

“Not particularly.” Kay flexed her hand, rolling it over and watching the half-shifting phase of the synthetic skin along her arm. “Sad still feels like sad, missing Hank feels the same as when I was assigned a distance case and didn’t get to see him for a couple weeks, but worse. I can’t make a lot of comparisons, since all I’ve really felt since I woke up is sad, irritated, and lonely, but it all feels the same. Y’know, minus the pulse bit, since I don’t actually have one anymore.”

Another wordless nod, no confirmation or denial or hypothesis. “And overall, how do you feel? What’s the same, what’s different?”

“...Everything? I… I heard a description, once, a guy talking about his new, neural-link prosthetic. It feels right- as far as I can tell, it’s almost a perfect replica of my human body, except that my fingers are a little long and I think you made me an inch taller, which I’m not sure I like. But it also feels… kind of… out-of-body. Like I tell it to do things- pick up the pen, twirl it, throw it up, catch it- and I do it, but it also kinda feels like it’s not quite right. Like my limbs are responding a quarter-second too fast or too slow. It took me a week to be able to twirl pens like I used to. I don’t think I’ve ever dissociated, but I think this is what it would feel like if I did. But overall, I… I still feel like me. I woke up on that table thinking I was just very suddenly pulled out of a collapsed, burning building. I’ve thought back on my memories. My morals are the same. It’s startling, when I see myself or any part of me looking robotic, because it feels like me. I feel like me. Just less achy and tired. And constantly hungry.”

Another nod, but this time she stood immediately after. “I think that’s all we need to know. I’ll see to your android companion and make sure they start exit testing as soon as possible.”

And she was gone, just like that. She was alone, again, but for once, she had hope. For the first time in nearly a month, she had a hope of leaving.  _ Finally. _


	2. Chapter 2

 

“God this is so fucking weird.”

“I apologize, detective. If there’s anything I can do to make it easier-”

She cut him off by gently patting his face with her left hand, her right still held up and pressed against his for interfacing. “You’re doing fine love, nothing you’re doing, it’s just… the whole situation. This is the sort of thing I used to read about in Sci-Fi novels and now it’s reality. I’m looking at myself through your eyes, Connor, it’s freaky. But I’ll get used to it. What’s this bit here?” She plowed on with her education, highlighting a section of coding on her own display, and Connor studiously explained it’s function and the various changes she could see in it, both influencing her systems and when it was found in androids. He made notes for himself about her dedication and focus, how she seemed to be trying to thoroughly memorize everything about her enhancements, while she kept her focus on the code, asking questions whenever he paused.

They didn’t stop when another person entered the room, though Connor glanced over at them and hesitated before finishing his explanation. Kay didn’t so much as flinch until he was done, then she turned to look at their visitor, hand separating from Connor’s and synthetic skin slowly glazing over the cybernetics.

“Good morning, Detective. How are you feeling today?” It was a man, this time, a young-ish gentleman with a polite smile, dark hair and green eyes, holding a tablet and a stopwatch.

“Restless,” she answered immediately. “I am so, so ready to leave, so the sooner we can get through this the better. How many tests do we have left?”

“Just a few,” he assured, settling into a chair next to the table she was sitting on, legs crossed and facing Connor in another chair. “Most of them are just to analyze how your systems and the RK800 series systems interact, and ensure neither of you will face any severe malfunctions away from the labs.” He swiped through the files on his tablet casually. “You won’t need to worry about a full system shut-down, since your human remains aren’t controlled by the bio-mechanics, but any failures in the code could cause a desync and disable you.”

“That’s comforting,” Kay snarked. She reached up to brush a hand through her hair, letting it fall over the straight-line LED on her temple, but also shifted to look towards the human. “So what’s first, my dude?”

“Well, I’d like to do a side-by-side of your coding, to see if there are any notable conflicts. Just a quick scan, if you don’t mind…” He tapped the desktop, accessing the internal computer and activating two interface slots, which Kay and Connor each placed a hand on, synthetic skin melting away again. It was a strange, almost invasive feeling, being scanned, like letting a creepy, too-friendly acquaintance keep their hand on your shoulder while talking to you, but focused mostly in her brain. It was over in a matter of seconds, however, and the assistant easily swiped the results into his tablet. “Great. Now a couple of simple interface tests.”

He talked them through each test, instructing them to open various system files and access different internal functions, sometimes at the same time and sometimes staggered and sometimes having one of them run a hefty calculation while the other was idle or processing other information- her favorite was the set of them alternating activity; first her running an analysis of probabilities while Connor added further data, then Connor analysing and her adding data, back and forth with increasingly complicated situations. It was great practice with using her new robotic additions, which she wasn’t sure she was ever going to be comfortable with.

“Last set of tests. You’ve been given the latest in advanced system hacking, and we’ll need to see how well it integrated with the rest of your system, as well as teach you how to use it all. We’ll also need to test your responses to a counter-hack. Your firewalls should protect you from a counter to a hack you initiate, but your LED is both for your use, externally controlling systems you don’t want to activate accidentally, and also serves as an emergency backdoor access. This is to ensure your assigned RK is able to assist in the event of an emergency crash, but if, either by accident or concentrated effort, a deviant android is able to reach it, it could gain access to core systems and  _ cause  _ a serious crash. For your own safety, we  _ strongly suggest  _ that you avoid revealing that knowledge to anyone, or any androids aside from the RK unit assigned to you.”

“That was a flood of words but I’m pretty sure I’m following.”

He smiled in a sort of ‘that was funny but I’m not supposed to laugh’ way, and swiped along his tablet. “We’ll start by teaching you the process to initiate a hack, then move to countering a hack, then we’ll let you practice a bit before we test reactions.”

Rather that starting with Connor, he directed her to hack the desk hologram projector, talking her through the access of her own systems to initiate, and the permissions she would need to access, giving her patient answers to the questions she asked at every opportunity- what was this permission for? Why was the code structured as it was? If she didn’t have time for a full hack, what should she prioritize? Were there many variations of the coding she would need to watch for? The first attempt at the hack took fifteen minutes, between her learning the navigation and asking questions. The second attempt took thirteen seconds. He seemed impressed, jotting down a few notes on his tablet before directing her to attempt a hack on Connor.

Android systems, naturally, were considerably more complex than a simple desk-integrated terminal. As was quickly becoming her pattern, she asked question after question, testing his firewalls and defenses with careful probes, and they passed half an hour before she even really attempted a hack. Even without his active resistance, she was almost at the fourty-five minute mark before she successfully managed to hack his system, and that brought on an entire new deluge of questions.

She made seven more attempts on Connor, each with him putting a little more effort into resisting the hack, and each time managing to break through in less time than before. Countering a hack ended up being surprisingly easy for her- likely due to the multitude of questions she’d asked already, though she still managed to find more to pepper them with between attempts. The only success Connor had was when he put dedicated effort into his hack, and she still put up a considerable defense before he did. It was unlikely any other androids would be capable of besting her if she had any sort of warning, and most wouldn’t stand a chance even with surprise on their side, and he wasn’t shy telling her so.

She grinned, a faint blue in her cheeks and her LED flickering yellow. “Oh, stop it, I’m gonna blush.” He liked seeing her smile.

The assistant had a series of electronics brought in, all relatively small, for her to practice hacking, from handhelds and earpieces up to a couple of advertising boards with differing levels of security, and she hacked her way through them, slowly building up a slew of tricks and things to recognize and exploit. It was thrilling, in a way- like a brain version of racing through a maze, trying to read the signs as she sprinted passed them and hoping to not make a wrong turn. It sometimes felt physical, like she could feel herself pushing and hunting through the lines of code for the little gaps where she could pry her way inside. It was honestly starting to make her feel nauseous, like motion sickness.

After the basic electronics, he ordered in a whole troop of androids- four common models, two lower-grade security models, three higher security, two maintenance, one private security special edition, one Traci, and two not-yet-released new public models, a male and a female of the Dream Partner line. Each of them was given orders to resist the hack, counter-hack if they could, but not to do any harm if they succeeded, and Kay was given freedom to hack as she pleased. Which quickly went from a work exercise to being possibly the most fun she’d had in recent memory. Every system followed the same overall laws of production, but each one had changed and evolved in such varying ways- it was like a lottery drawing, with twenty million variables to take each position and no way of telling which was drawn when. She hacked each of them twice- once exploring the code and once to really apply herself- and skipped over the easier ones for a third and fourth attempt at the more difficult ones.

She finally decided she’d had enough of hacking, a full two hours later, and turned to take her place at the desk with Connor and the assistant again- the sooner they could finish the tests the sooner she could see Hank again, and as much as she was enjoying the learning experience, she’d enjoy some welcome home sex a lot more- when two of the high-security models grabbed her, one on each arm and initiating synchronized hacks.

Surprised, yes. But not defeated. Her new super brain was already calculating responses, even as she frantically pulled up her defenses to block their hacks. She dropped towards the floor, rolling slightly and kicking at the one on her right arm, dislodging him and stopping half the hack, then turned her focus on the left, putting all her focus on counter-hacking even as she swung a leg under his. If she’d been human, it wouldn’t have worked- security models were made of heavy, solid materials- but powered with her own components, she easily knocked his balance out, pulling him to the floor and keeping her hand on his to complete the counter-hack and force a shutdown.

She stood up with a groan when she was done, glancing at the one she’d kicked away, then at Connor and the human. “I’m going to assume you planned that.”

The assistant smiled apologetically. “It’s important to know you can fight a hack you aren’t anticipating.” He typed away on his tablet, then finally waved her over. She sat on the tabletop again, ignoring the chair left open for her. “Last of all, we need to see how you respond to a hostile hack, rather than just a test hack, and make sure the RK systems are capable of restoring system function. To do that, I’m going to apply a few simple changes common in android hacks to your systems, monitor the results, and then RK800 will use your LED opening to restore it.”

She nodded, watching him type on his screen, double-checking this and that. “What all could they do to me with a hack? You said full shut-down won’t happen because I’m not completely computer, but what can? Should I be ready to lose senses? Am I going to be temporarily blind? Is my vision gonna fill with pop-ups?”

“Vision could be a target, if the hacker is experienced, yes. Most likely they’ll go for a basic desync of inputs- slowing your visual input a few seconds, amplifying audio input. Another common tactic is to flood the system with data and slow processing to a crawl- easy to fix, but on-the-fly is difficult from the unexpected strain on systems.” He lifted the tablet a bit higher, turning to face her directly. “I can only assume this will be unpleasant, but as you’re the first human to experience a hack, I can’t give any other warnings. Are you ready?”

She huffed, rolling her shoulders and laying her hands flat on the table. “As I’ll ever be.”

He tapped a couple more times, then made eye contact. “Try not to fight it,” he advised, then hit another button and-

_ Everything was wrong. Her vision was warped and her balance was off and she immediately clung to the edge of the table so she didn’t fall over, the nausea that had briefly replaced her hunger returned with a vengeance, god it was good she didn’t have a stomach or she’d throw up, she couldn’t hear anything, she was trying to force open the gyrometer she’d removed from her base HUD to make it easier to see but it wasn’t working, nothing was responding- _

Breathe, Detective.  _ She did, sucked in a deep breath and tried to control it’s release, tried to stop her eyes snapping around the room trying to find something that wasn’t moving-  _ Initiating a reset, stay calm-  _ She was definitely not calm but sure okay she was breathing she was focused on her knees which seemed to be warping around but mostly not moving- _

Relief, as her vision flickered and was abruptly back to normal, sounds were back, she could hear the assistant talking to himself or possibly taking audio notes, and while she still felt far more nauseous than a being with no stomach had any right to, her balance was stable again and she carefully released her grip on the table.

Connor still had his fingers pressed against her temple, just above her LED bar, and seemed to be waiting for her confirmation before letting go. She pat the back of his hand when she was confident she wasn’t about to lose it again, and he calmly returned to his sitting position.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up,” she stated. “Which is really unfair because I haven’t eaten since five hours before a building was dropped on me, which was apparently two and a half months ago. But I think I’m okay.”

She scrubbed her face with her hands while the assistant finished taking his notes, sighing quietly. After a moment she leaned back and laid on the desk, hands settling on her stomach. “Two and a half months,” she mused. “God, he must be worried sick. Wonder if he misses me as bad as I miss him.”

The assistant stopped typing, staring at the screen. “Detective, there is… a small detail we haven’t mentioned yet, about your procedures. And your return.” He hesitated, glancing up at her for a moment, then back to his tablet, than back again, but not meeting her eyes. “The Detroit Precinct, and everyone else who has inquired about you, has been told you are deceased.”

\-------

When she was human, she would have felt the emotion like a shock of cold water dumped over her head. A jolt in every cell. A sudden awareness, her stomach dropping into her pelvis, her heart beating a heavy, hard  _ thud  _ against her ribs.  _ Deceased. _

Being more metal than flesh, it was a bit different. It was a jolt in every inch of her, yes, and she could swear she felt and  _ heard  _ her pumps strain for a moment, but there was an almost static tinge to it all. She still felt a bit like she’d been punched in the gut.  _ Deceased.  _

Two and a half months, and he thought she was dead? Everyone thought she was dead? He wasn’t going to believe it was her. He’d think he was hallucinating, probably think he’d had too many drinks-  _ fuck,  _ he’d be drinking like he used to, before they got together, when he was still trying to drown out the memory of his son’s death, of his perceived failures- he’d blame himself for what happened to her, he’d- he’d be-

“Detective, please, you need to calm down!” Connor was in front of her, hands on her shoulders and holding her steady. “You seem to be in the early stages of an anxiety attack. I need you to focus, and breathe.”

Breathe, breathe, like she was always telling Hank to do- god,  _ Hank.  _

“I need to see him.”

“We’re working on your release, but we recommend that some of our agents prepare him-”

“ _ Fuck  _ your recommendations.” She slid off the table and grabbed his coat, face grim and determined. “I want my personal effects, and I’d appreciate my bike, but I will walk to him if I have to.” She let him go and paced away, fighting the urge to punch something. “He thinks I’m  _ dead?  _ You didn’t tell him I’d agreed to treatments, that I might be rescued, you just told him ‘yeah, she’s dead! Sorry!’ You didn’t- didn’t send him a letter or- give him a call? You’ve held me here for Three weeks and Four days and you never considered telling my lover that  _ I was alive?! _ ”

With a lack of things safe for punching, she squeezed her head between her hands, yelled wordlessly at the wall in front of her, pulled at her hair. Not the same, but it helped.

“You signed several nondisclosure agreements before your accident-”

She spun on him with a snarl. “I remember those agreements, I wasn’t allowed to tell people details. Nowhere did I agree to keeping my possible recovery from my loved ones, and I sure as  _ fuck  _ didn’t agree to you telling everyone I was dead and keeping it a secret when you brought me back!”

He frowned, looking like he was trying to find words. It might have been the look on her face, or maybe he’d just deemed it a lost cause, because he sighed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t make the decisions. But as it stands, he believes you’re dead. So does the rest of the precinct. And all of the people saved by that hard drive you grabbed. And anyone who paid attention to the story in the news. A lot of people are going to be surprised, and probably scared, the first time they see you.”

“I don’t care. I’m going back to my life. And if anyone tries to stop me, I’m gonna use this new metal arm to break their teeth.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just now realizing i got a bunch of hits and two kudos and a bookmark so have an update earlier than I planned <3

They were kept in the lab for another few hours. Connor agreed to help pass the time by helping her understand more of the coding for her systems, sharing files and eventually showing her the remote connection link they had been given- not particularly hidden, but she wouldn’t have had the faintest clue what to do with the small executable lumped in with her integrated phone and file sharing software. It was still strange to think she had software, now. Would she ever get used to being part robot? She wasn’t entirely sure she  _ wanted _ to.

When at last a new security android was sent in, carrying a simple box, she was anxious enough that the pen spinning through her fingers was nearly able to take flight. She thanked the android, immediately digging through everything they’d decided to return to her. Her wallet- no, not exactly. The same style, and color, with a fresh copy of her ID, now marked with a Cyberlife logo in the corner, her credit and debit cards, her library card, seventy-two dollars and sixty cents in cash and coins, and- hidden in the little pocket she’d always reserved for her most important things- a small photo of her and others from the precinct, celebrating her first big case- the one that earned her a title as Detective. 

She smiled to herself, seeking out Hank’s face (off to the side, not wanting to be acknowledged) and her own (front and center, grinning with an arm around Janet, who she remembered was going to be holding back her hair and dabbing her forehead a couple nights later when she got the letter from her parents, disowning her. Janet was good people) before tucking it away again. 

There were clothes, under her pistol in it’s thigh holster and the hip bag she wore opposite it. Not hers, of course, not properly, since they hadn’t gone to her apartment to retrieve any of her actual things, but they were similar enough to things she usually wore. Socks, plain white no-shows, a pair of plain grey cotton panties, a grey sports bra, a plain ribbed tank top, in the same Cyberlife blue as Connor’s jacket, a pair of bootcut blue jeans, a grey-and-blue plaid flannel shirt, and a hefty leather jacket.

She took the extra time to really look at the jacket. She’d had one before- she wasn’t wearing it when the building fell, she’d had to take it off when she was in the basement, when the smuggler had set off his incendiary and killed himself in the process, because it had been pinned to the wall by shrapnel that had almost sunk into her gut. Apparently they had a lot of references for her original- they had all of her patches sewn onto it, in nearly the exact right places. All that was missing was the little paw print patch on the left arm and an anarchy fist patch (By the People, For the People) on the right hem, replaced by a small Cyberlife logo.

Fucking brand whores.

She didn’t bother telling Connor or the security droid to give her privacy- She had no shame, and they’d both politely turned their backs to her as soon as she’d pulled the clothes from the box, anyway. She didn’t bother with the bra- she had robot tits, there was nothing to control about them, and they weren’t so big- just the underwear, socks, tank top, pants, then she strapped on her pistol and hip bag, checking through the contents (house keys, motorcycle key, safe key, tassel charm, small folding knife, plain silver lighter, mini notebook, two pens, a pencil and a stylus), then the flannel, and last the leather jacket- which was apparently brand new, still stiff from lack of wear.

Before she had a chance to ask about shoes, the security android stepped over to hand her a pair of black motorcycle boots. Her favorite brand, the style she’d been debating getting before but wasn’t sure about because the ones she had were still in great shape. She wanted to be suspicious of how they had gotten everything exactly right, but she couldn’t question much- she’d told them a million arbitrary things about herself in the questionnaire they gave her when she signed up for all of it. She was present on a lot of security footage, at the precinct and just out in the world. Anything she didn’t explicitly state, they easily could have found on camera. Plus, they had literally built her body- if they got a size wrong, it was their own fault.

She did add a mental note to buy some new shoelaces for the boots- she didn’t like the black-on-black look that came stock with most of them. Maybe she’d get pink, just to ruin the nice color-coordination they’d done for the rest of the outfit. (And then a small web browser opened in her HUD, that was never going to  _ not  _ be weird. She placed an order for pink shoelaces and got a confirmation it would be delivered the next day.)

She twirled her pen almost violently in the elevator. The reality of things was starting to get to her. She was going to see him- she was going to see Hank again, for the first time in almost three months. He thought she was dead. How would he react? Disbelief, to start, of course, but… would he yell? Panic? Go straight to denial? She couldn’t just not see him, but what if he didn’t want to see her? What if- What if he had a new girlfriend? That put a heavy weight in her gut, and if she could have lost anything about being human it would be that awful feeling of discontent settling low in her belly but it was apparently here to stay. She couldn’t be mad, if he’d moved on- he’d been told she was dead, she couldn’t expect him to have held on to a dead woman’s memory, but- but what would she do with herself? He’d been such a pillar of her life, someone she relied on and trusted and loved- if he didn’t want her anymore-

“Detective, your stress level seems unnaturally high. Is something wrong?”

Her pen spun out of her fingers and clattered on the wall and the floor of the elevator. She jolted at the noise almost as hard as she had at Connor’s words. She huffed, closed her eyes, tried to steady herself with a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, Connor was holding out her pen.

“Thanks,” She barely breathed it, taking the pen back with fingers that didn’t shake as hard as she did inside.

“Are you alright, Detective?” He asked- same question, different words.

She nodded, giving the pen another spin. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

He didn’t respond, still staring at her. The elevator door opened before either of them spoke again, and Kay took the chance to move, heading directly for the door. Connor fell into step just behind her.

Dr. Phillips, who had quickly become a familiar face around her gilded cage, stopped her before she could get out of the building. “We weren’t able to get your vehicle released from the impound just yet, so you’ll either need to take a taxi, or you can borrow a Cyberlife car for now-”

“I’ll take a taxi.” She twirled her pen one last time before tucking it into a pocket. “Let me know as soon as I can pick up my bike, I don’t like even  _ thinking  _ about the state it’s in after almost three months in the not-so-tender care of the local impound, and I need to know my baby is okay.” She’d spent half a year scrounging every cent she could to save up for that bike, and put in probably too much effort keeping it well maintained, cleaned and protected from the weather and driven often to make sure everything was running well- and she’d done all the maintenance work herself. It was  _ hers  _ and no one else was gonna lay a finger on it without her permission.

_ Hank had loved her motorcycle, had called it a death trap the first couple of times she’d ridden it to work but he always smiled at her when she took off her helmet, and he’d been nervous on their first ride, that was the first time they kissed, what if he didn’t want her anymore- _

“-been assigned a homicide case involving a deviant. You should be able to find him at home if he isn’t at the precinct-” Dr. Phillips was still speaking, apparently unaware of Kay’s internal conflict. 

She cut in with a snort. “Yeah, not likely. We’ll check, but the bar’s more likely.”

Just as she was about to head through the door, the doctor grabbed her arm, gently but firmly enough to make a point. “Detective,” she warned, “Lieutenant Anderson is not particularly stable, emotionally. I have to advise you take caution. We don’t know how he will react to seeing you, but it likely won’t be favorable.”

She made eye contact as she pulled her fingers loose. “Believe me, I’ve been thinking about it a lot. But I  _ am  _ going to see him. For my sake, and his, and for the investigation.”

At last, at last, she managed to get out the doors, striding out to the edge of the overhang, where she was out of the rain but out of the building. She was just about to try navigating her HUD again, perhaps call a taxi, when one pulled up at the roadside and opened its door, speaking just loud enough to hear over the patter of rain; “Taxi requested for Michaels and company.”

She glanced at Connor, who simply nodded at the vehicle, face calm as ever, then led the charge, trotting through the rain and climbing into the taxi with Kay close behind him. The automated car took off as soon as the doors closed without asking for a destination- she assumed Connor had already input Hank’s address, or the precincts.

“I don’t think you were honest with me in the elevator, Detective.” Connor was a bit of a hound when he wanted something- whatever mission he was working on, he’d keep at it until it reached a conclusion. Unfortunately, that included getting an answer to a question.

“Just call me Kay, Connor,” she deflected, watching the city pass outside the window. The rain was fairly light, unlike the torrents they usually got. It had been a long time since she’d been outside.

“Familiarity aside, I would prefer your honesty. I can’t be of assistance without the relevant information.”

“That’s a very mechanical way of saying you care.” She’d just put her pen away and already she wanted to take it out again- she’d never stressed about things like this when she was all meat. The super thinking was great for case analysis, but it was decidedly not helping with her nerves- mentally creating over three-hundred ways he could react to seeing her, most of them negative, was a lot easier with a computer that could account for every little variable. She’d already come up with three possibilities that would end with him shooting her. “Just overthinking. Worried about Hank.”

“You were romantically involved before the accident, weren’t you?”

She snorted. “Yeah. We were pretty romantically involved.” Her fingers twitched, and she rubbed them together aggressively. “We were dating for almost a year and a half. Now he thinks I’m dead and… I’m just worried how he’s going to feel about me all robocop. He’s got a thing against androids, and I’m not an android but I’m worried he’ll think I’m… not real enough.”

He was quiet for a moment, and she wondered if he was going to leave it be, but of course not. “There isn’t any information on the Lieutenant’s current relationship status publicly available, but following his reported behavior, it is unlikely he would have an overly negative reaction to finding you alive.” He pat her on the shoulder, hesitant like he wasn’t sure he was doing it right. “He may be upset briefly, but I’m confident your return will be good for him.”

“Yeah. I’m not so sure, but I appreciate the attempt.” She pat his hand for good measure.

“Would you appreciate a distraction, until we reach the precinct?” He continued, retracting his hand and clasping them between his spread knees.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“How do you spin your pen like you do?” He asked immediately. “I understand you did so before, as well. Can you show me?”

A fantastic choice of topic, in her opinion, and she happily pulled her pen out again. “It’s mostly a nervous habit, a fidget. It’s easier for me to think if I keep my hands busy. You just have to find the right spots, get used to catching it, like this.”

She gave it a few twirls to show him, then slowed down as much as she could, showing him step-by-step. After a few minutes she pulled out another pen and let him try it, twirling hers at the same slow pace while he attempted to mimic her. It took him several tries to get just a few seconds of consecutive spins- she wondered if he was deliberately failing, trying to keep her attention as long as he could. He wouldn’t admit it if she asked, she was sure of that.

They were nearly to the precinct when she dug into her wallet and pulled out a quarter instead. “I was never very good with the quarter,” she explained, attempting to balance it on her knuckles, “but my brother was really good at it. He could never get a pen spin, though. But it’s less about balance and more about speed. See, if you can get it here…” She attempted to walk it across her knuckles, and for the most part, managed. She showed him a couple of other tricks as well- flicking it hand-to-hand, catching it between fingers, even balanced it on end on her fingertip for a second.

It was almost comical, seeing how quickly he took to the quarter when he couldn’t figure out the pen. He walked it over his knuckles, back and forth, flipped and caught it with his other hand, flicked it around. She held back a chuckle, but she was smiling when they arrived at the precinct.

He stepped out of the taxi and paused, waiting for her. She peered out at the glass front windows and hesitated. “You should go without me, this time. Hank won’t be here, and we’ll need to find whatever bar he’s hiding in so we can get to work. I’ll hold the taxi.”

“We were instructed to-” He started.

“No.” She put away one of the pens and clicked the other a few times. “Everyone thinks I’m dead, remember? If they see me, everyone’s gonna want to talk, see me in person, we’ll be here for hours before we can go looking for Hank.” Connor opened his mouth to speak and she cut him off. “And, on the small chance that he is here, you can link me and let me know. Or you could tell him he’s needed out here and we’ll just head off, leave the fanfare about me being back for tomorrow. No reason to waste time, so… Go.”

He frowned, but when she waved him off he went. She watched him cross the road and pass through the glass doors, speaking to the receptionist briefly before moving further into the precinct. Hank wasn’t there- she was almost certain of it. He’d been drinking himself to death after his son died, and even with her around he drank too much. Being told she was dead would have been more than enough to drive him back to the bottle. She was still tense, waiting for his voice to filter into her head and tell her he was waiting for her inside.

**You were right,** his voice came instead. She jerked, feeling her thyrium pump whine from stress briefly.  **The Lieutenant isn’t here. No one’s seen him in a few hours, but they suggested he might be having a drink nearby.**

**Well come on back, then. We’ll start at The Boot and go from there.**

Connor reappeared in her sight as she was finishing her reply, jogging back over the pavement and sliding back into a seat as soon as the door opened. This time, Kay did the honors of inputting directions, and the taxi smoothly drove off towards the pub.

\------

Four bars later, they were on foot towards Jimmy’s Bar. Connor had suggested walking after the second, citing the taxi bill and the relative nearness of the remaining bars to be his favor. Kay had agreed, more out of desire to not be cooped up any longer than she needed to be, than over any worry about money.

Besides, she thought to herself, tipping her head back and feeling the droplets hitting her face, it had been a while since she’d taken any time to enjoy the rain.

Connor’s thumb tinged against the quarter he was still flipping, now leading a few steps ahead but still watching to keep pace with Kay. She didn’t move with any haste, letting the rain soak her thoroughly, past the flannel and the tank top and straight through her jeans. She didn’t even turn her attention back to the sidewalk until Connor’s coin stopped tinging, and when she opened her eyes they were just outside the bar.

She hesitated at the door, plastered with a large, plain sign- No Androids Allowed. She wasn’t going to leave him outside, though, like a forgotten puppy. “Stay close to me, Connor,” she ordered, “and don’t say anything for a bit, alright?” He nodded, and she pulled open the door.

Inside was warm, and dry, and just as dirty and half-assedly lit as she remembered it being the last time she’d come to drag Hank out of a bottle. Several occupants turned to sneer at them as they entered, a few muttering about ‘fuckin’ robots can’t read a damn sign.’ Kay ignored them, skimming over the heads and a couple of faces- and there he was, at the bar, in front of the Gears game. She really didn’t care about basketball- he’d gotten her a jersey to wear when she watched with him, and if it wasn’t for how happy it made him look, she wouldn’t have bothered to watch at all.

Most of the bar was quiet while she haphazardly squeezed some of the water out of her hair, shook her legs and flicked water on the floor at the door. No one really bothered to watch her, pacing towards her (boyfriend? Ex? Lover? Friend, at least?) her Hank, and even he didn’t turn to look when she stopped just out of arms reach. Her mouth felt dry. What should she say? What  _ could _ she say? What was an appropriate greeting for someone who thought you were dead, two months dead?

“Hey, Hank.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here have a big one

“Hey, Hank.”

He stiffened, visibly drew his shoulders in, even rattled his glass of whiskey. He mumbled something, dragged his free hand over his face, and sighed. “I’m fuckin’ hearin’ things… that’s a new one.” She took a half step closer and carefully put her hand on his shoulder, which just made him tense harder, but after a long moment and a too-deep breath, he turned his head, just enough to see her. “Who the fuck are you? And what do you want?”

She worked her jaw, trying to ease the tension in it. “You know who I am, Hank.”

“Nuh-uh. No. I know who you sound like, I know who you’re trying to be, but that’s not possible, because she’s dead. D-E-A-D, Dead.”

**Not an optimal response-**

**Not now, Connor.**

Kay let her hand slide off his arm while he downed the last of his drink. “Technically, yes, I was dead. For a total of four hours, between them getting my heart going and it giving out again. And I wasn’t in great shape, so I’m… not  _ all  _ of me, anymore. But crazier things have happened. And they should have told you the truth, as soon as I woke up, but the fucking- nondisclosure bullshit, like I wasn’t going to read them-”

“What the _ fuck _ are you talking about?” He stood, then, facing her with a steely annoyance creased into his face. “Technically?’ ‘Not all of you?’ What you- you’re an android copy-cat? How fuckin’ convenient.”

“Cyborg,” she corrected. “The proper term is Cyborg. Part human, part machine, all the sass and I don’t really need to sleep anymore so I can annoy you at all times of the day.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t feel right and she dropped it as quickly as she started. “I know it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I told them I wanted you to know, if there was even a chance it was going to work, but obviously their reputation was more important to them. A month or so before- that. I got an offer from Cyberlife. Experimental stuff, only if I was in seriously bad shape. A chance to keep fighting. And we’d just had that- stupid fight about my being a detective, when I broke my wrist, so I- I really didn’t want to give it up. So, after, they scraped up what was left and robo-cop’d me.”

His face was still cold. “Alright, let’s pretend I believe you. When did we first get together?”

“Like, together-together, or when did we start flirting for real? Because we made it official two June’s ago, but we were lookin’ at each other a long time before that.”

His frown got stiffer. “Where was our first date?”

“We… never agreed if the motorcycle ride counted. I say it definitely did. You say it was that pizza place, ‘round the corner from the precinct.”

His mouth wavered, and she was almost desperate for him not to cry- she wasn’t sure she could handle that, in the middle of the bar. “Why the hell should I believe you?”

Now she dropped her gaze, just for a second. “Because… this is where I found you, when we were assigned that case that outed my parents. And it’s where you took me when I got their letter, disowning me. And I had just gotten you to stop trying to drink to heaven, and you’ve been the best friend I’ve had since I moved, and if you don’t believe me I-” Her voice cracked, and she took a breath, tried again- “I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t believe I was really me.”

He stared at her for a long, silent minute. It made the nerves in her gut roll and twist. Then he was reaching out, putting a hand on her cheek- slowly, cautiously, like he was expecting an attack, or for her to disappear; fingertips, brushing along her cheek until his palm was cupping her jaw, and she saw the second the tension in his shoulders left him and leaned, pressing her forehead to his, looping her hands around the back of his head. He was warm, and solid, and he smelled like alcohol and dog, and  _ god she’d missed him so much. Her whole body ached with how badly she’d missed him, she wanted to bury herself in his side and never let go- _

His breath was almost a sob against her face. “You were dead, Kay, I saw you- I-” he choked on whatever he was going to say next.

Connor didn’t. “Reports state that after the collapse, Lieutenant Anderson ran back into the building and pulled you out.” Kay’s head jerked back, just barely an inch, enough to turn and look at the android in confusion. “Emergency responders stated that he was performing CPR when they arrived, and needed treatment for burn wounds and smoke inhalation.”

She looked at Connor for a moment, processing what he’d said, then turned back to Hank, feeling the sting in her eyes that always meant she was about to bawl her eyes out. “You-?” Words failed; she punched him in the shoulder- hard enough he moved, but not enough to hurt him. “You stupid- you- fucking-” she hit him again, then clung to his shirt, pressing their heads together. “You could have- you could have died, you- fuck. You could have died, why would- why did you-” Tears leaked passed her determination, and she shook with her next breath like a leaf in a hurricane. “I told you to  _ go,  _ you fucking coathanger.”

That ripped a laugh from him- just one, and a piss-poor excuse for a smile. “You’re the only person I’ve ever heard use an insult like that.”

He kissed her without any other warning, just tilting his head and pressing into her, like it was as simple as that, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed- like it was just another day, and she’d never been gone.

“Lieutenant, we do have an assignment.”

They broke apart, still close enough to share breaths, and Hank grumbled, “is this plastic prick with you?”

“Yeah. Sorry, he’s not built for being social.” She sighed, but straightened up enough to give Connor a Look. “You’re right, and you shouldn’t get in trouble for being right. But you do have really,  _ really  _ bad timing.”

He opened his mouth, hesitated. “I’m sorry, Detective. I’ll try to behave more acceptably in the future.”

_ Damn him and his puppy-dog eyes.  _ “It’s fine. We should get going.”

Hank grunted, making no motion to move. Kay huffed and slid her fingers through his hair. He grumbled some more. “Finally get you back and it’s right back to work.”

“Part of the agreement. It took three weeks of pestering to convince them to let me out at all, so if I have to help with the deviants situation first, so be it. At least I’m allowed outside.” She ruffled his hair fondly, then slowly pulled away. “You ready to go, then?”

“No.”

“Lieutenant, we must insist. Our instructions state that we must accompany you on this investigation.”

Hank sneered at him. “I don’t give a damn. You know where you can stick your instructions?”

“...No. Where?”

_ God bless his little heart he was so innocent.  _ “Never mind.” Hank glowered at his empty glass like it had personally insulted him.

**This approach doesn’t seem to be working, Detective.**

**Just call me Kay, please.** **  
** **Of course, Kay. What should we do?**

**Probably not talk about him when he’s sitting right there, to start. Wait a minute or two, he’ll give in eventually.**

Connor pursed his lips for a moment, apparently doing some calculations, then suddenly blurted out, “What If I buy you one for the road?” He was waving for the bartender before Hank could agree or Kay could refuse, calm as could be. “Bartender, another of the same, please.”

Hank’s glower eased into a vague approval, and he added, “Hell, make it a double. On him.”

The bartender poured, Connor put a few bills on the bar top, Hank downed his drink in a few slow swallows, and Kay glared at them, hoping she could get her disappointment in them conveyed by force of will. She was stubborn as hell, that had to give her some willpower advantage.

But neither of them acknowledged her disappointment. Hank stood up to leave, though, giving the bartender a short goodbye, and Kay and Connor followed him out to his car. He grumbled a bit more, in his typical, irritable way. But for the most part, once Connor had given him the address of the crime scene, nobody spoke- only the speakers, blasting Hank’s choice of heavy metal.

**I am detecting that you’re upset with me, Kay.**

She fought an audible sigh.  **A bit. You shouldn’t encourage his drinking.**

**I apologize, but it seemed-**

**Don’t worry about it. You did good. It was a lot quicker than waiting for him to get tired of sitting, and he probably likes you a bit more for it. It was the right decision. But try to avoid giving him more alcohol from now on, alright?**

**Of course. And, if this isn’t a bad time to mention it- is it safe to allow the lieutenant to drive in his state?**

**He’ll be fine. He’s a functional alcoholic, and he’s not drunk yet. Probably best someone else drives if we go to the station tonight, though.**

He left it at that, turning to watch through the window as buildings passed. Kay turned her attention, as subtly as she could, to watching Hank. He didn’t look too bad. A bit tired, face a little more pinched and bags under his eyes. He smelled rather strongly of alcohol, not that she was surprised. But he didn’t look too thin, or like he was about to fall over, from drink or exhaustion. He hadn’t completely fallen apart- that was a relief in and of itself.

She could hear the twang of Connor flicking the coin in the back seat through a lull in the music and smiled a bit, even as they pulled in at the curb in front of the house, surrounded by press and blocked off by first responders and holotape. She hadn’t considered police outside of the precinct-  _ hopefully they won’t ask too many questions. _

Hank turned to point at Connor. “You wait here,” he ordered, “I won’t be long.” He opened the door just as Connor spoke.

“My instructions are to accompany you to the crime scene, Lieutenant.”

He made a disgust face as he turned back. “I don’t give a fuck about your instructions. I told you to wait here, so you shut the fuck up, and you wait here.”

He stepped out and slammed the door. Kay sighed and opened her own. When Connor didn’t immediately move to join her, she leaned down to look at him. “Well, are you coming? Or would you rather sit?”

He blinked, and quickly clambered out, following her around the car towards the police line. 

The android patroller stationed at the police line moved to stop them, citing “Androids are not permitted beyond this line,” but Kay flashed her badge. “He’s with me, it’s alright.” The android took a moment to scan the badge, then her face, then nodded and stepped aside. The officer speaking to Hank did a double-take when she stepped up beside him.

“Michaels? Thought you were dead, woman! It was all over the news!”

He reached out to her, and she begrudgingly shook his hand. “Nah, takes more than a building collapse to keep me down. Wish they’d asked me about my death announcement before declaring it to the world, but you know how corporations get. C’mon, Connor, stay close.”

Hank made the same face from earlier. “What part of ‘stay in the car’ did you two not understand?”

Kay raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, are you really trying to tell me off for not doing what I’m told, Mr. ‘I’m not leaving the burning, collapsing building even though you told me to and I already said it was a death trap?’ That’s adorable.”

He squinted at her, the same look he used to give her when she put veggies on his dinner plate- his ‘you’re right but I’m still not happy’ squint.

“Evening, Hank,” a man on the porch called, stepping down carefully. “We thought you weren’t gonna show.”

“Yeah,” he griped, “That was the plan ‘til tin can and his mistress found me.”

The man looked up with humor in his eyes- humor that faded in an instant when he recognized her. “Jesus Christ, Michaels, is that really you?” He made a startled laugh. “For someone caught in an explosion, you look damn good.”

She smiled. “Oh yeah, charcoal. Great for your skin,” she snarked. “What’s the sitch?”

He nodded, turning back to the house and leading them in. “We got a call around eight from the landlord. Tenant hadn’t paid rent in a couple of months, so he thought he’d stop by, see what was going on.” Kay’s wireless link to Connor blipped, opening a small subwindow on her HUD listing off all of his observations- the poor state of the yard, building in disrepair, trashbags piled up at the corner of the house rather than at the roadside for pick up. Common signs of a drug den, exercise caution. “That’s when he found the body.” She sent a calm blip back, keeping her focus on the briefing and the ground immediately in front of her.

Stepping through the door was a delayed assault- Hank made a huffy sniff and grimaced, the on-scene immediately complained, and a second later she caught a whiff herself. The robotics in her brain immediately started analyzing the sample she’d breathed in, but the human side needed only one word- horrible. A side-scroll started listing off the chemical makeup of the air, which she opened to Connor’s access, not that he would need it once he was inside himself.

“It was even worse before we opened the windows,” the on-scene continued, moving further in so the detectives could investigate freely. Immediately she picked up on several things- trash piled everywhere, food left out to rot, most notably the body, slouched against the wall, blood spread all down the front of his shirt- above him was writing- I AM ALIVE.

More analysis from Connor, a confirmation of the air sample, further notes on the state of the building, the font of the words- Cyberlife sans, too perfect to be anything but an android.

“Victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. He has a record for theft, and aggravated assault. According to neighbors, he was kind of a loner. Stayed inside most of the time, and no one ever saw him.”

Another blip from the wireless- an offer to share his visual feed. She was cautiously concerned- they’d only split visuals the once, when both of them were seated. She wasn’t sure how well she could manage moving around with only half her sight. But curiosity won out, and a moment later the vision in her right eye flickered out, replaced by the view of the kitchen from Connor’s. Hank made a comment about the state of the body as she watched Connor kneel( _ good god that was disorienting, half the world moved without her doing anything, this was not pleasant)  _ and press his fingertips into the blood.

“Connor, what are you doing?” She asked, out loud, lifting a hand to press near her eye- a failed attempt to steady herself as she turned towards him. She mangaged to spot him just as he lifted those fingers to his mouth and made a face. “Oh, god, what the hell?” Hank made a similar remark with a noise of disgust.

He looked over innocently, and again she was struck by the strangeness of staring at someone who was staring at you and seeing what they saw. “I’m analyzing the blood,” he waved vaguely at the dried puddle on the floor. “I can process samples in real time.” He paused, another sudden understanding. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

Hank grumbled a protest, “Don’t put any more evidence in your mouth.” Kay looked at her own fingers with morbid curiosity while Connor’s analysis added to his pop-up.

**Can I do that, too?**

**Yes, Detective, you’re equipped with many of the same features and tools to ensure your effectiveness is at a maximum.**

After a moment of debate, she popped her finger in her mouth, watching the little box open on the side of her vision as it read the results-  _ No Sample Detected.  _ “That’s so  _ fucking weird _ .” She left Connor to continue his search, turning her own gaze the general set-up of the scene. Blood in a minimally spread pattern, only a few large splash-spots moving towards the body’s position- He’d been wounded, first, made it to the living room before being stabbed to death. (Connor’s pop-up added a note about the knife- definitely used on the victim, only his blood on the blade, no fingerprints, most likely the murder weapon, but needed confirmation with assessment of the victim) She knelt by the body, pushing aside the awful stench of rotting carcass to focus on the physical. She had all of Connor’s analysis tools.  _ Let’s start with this, then.  _

The world faded to shades of grey, outside of her immediate focus, and several things leapt out at her immediately-  _ 28 stab wounds, massive internal bleeding, deceased estimation- 19-21 days ago- Traces of acetone and thyrium on victims nose and mouth, street drug- ‘Red Ice’- used within an hour of death- blood on hands, attempted to stop bleeding manually- ID Confirmation- Carlos Ortiz- lack of damaged blood vessels; fell against wall back first, slid lower, attack and murder forced him down- _

-And then suddenly she was seeing it; an outline, wireframe silhouette of the victim, shifting up the wall in a perfect reverse of the fall, standing upright- it reverse stumbled forward, a hand on the couch as it un-tripped over the mess of bottles on the floor, then it stuttered to a halt. Fascinated, she thought the movements forth- the wireframe stumbled backwards, hand slipping from the couch to try to catch him on the wall before he fell; it jolted against the wall, like something had hit it, then slid down, until it rested where the corpse now lay, under the streaks of blood that had oozed out of his back. She reversed it again, not pausing until she reached the initial stumble- had he been pushed? No, movements didn’t match… there was a smear of blood on the floor, like a half-handprint, and another on the couch- he’d crawled, tried to pull himself up, but didn’t quite get upright when he was attacked again.

The wireframe jerked around a bit, fitting into the position she’d determined, flowing backwards through time to the large puddle of blood marked off at the edge of the room, coming from the kitchen. She glanced back to the body, muttering under her breath. One stab wound was further down than the others, high on the abs where the others clustered in the mid-ribs. He’d been stabbed once before he reached the wall.

The whole wireframe jolted about, cycling through what she’d determined and showing her the man stumbling through his living room, reversed, until he un-fell through the door to the kitchen.

_ No further data available; saving simulation. _ It pinged off to Connor, while his pop-up scrolled more information(metal bat, visibly dented, traces of thyrium; signs of a struggle in the kitchen- chair overturned; blood handprints on the walls indicate attempted retreat; victim attacked the android, was attacked in return)

“That’s so  _ fucking weird,”  _ she repeated quietly, searching the rest of the living room as she moved carefully towards the kitchen door.

“What’s weird?” Hank asked, almost starling her as he came around the corner himself.

She tapped the side of her face. “I can share data with Connor without contact. It’s… weird. I don’t have any other words. It’s just so fuckin’ weird.”

He made a face at the reminder she wasn’t all human anymore and stepped aside. He made a huff at the sight of the drugs on the end table. “Fuckin’ Red Ice.”

“Traces on his face. He was probably high when he died,” she added, sidestepping around him. Connor was in the kitchen and moving through the back hallway, visuals reporting nothing of particular note, so she looked towards the back door. It opened fairly easily, and the screenless metal door outside it creaked but didn’t resist. Even in the rain, she could see one set of footsteps easily, and with a bit of focus she spotted another, well faded and apparently over a month old- the victims, she presumed, by the sandal tread, and the fresh set from a DPD standard size 10.

_ Soil is sturdy, held month-old sandal prints; anyone leaving would leave a noticeable mark- Deviant did not take this path to escape _

Connor’s visuals showed him opening the shower curtain, exposing a wall of scribbles- repeating RA9 and rA9 almost from corner to corner- and a small idol of some sort sitting on the floor.  _ Religious offering? Deity representation? _

She hummed, turning to head inside and coming almost face-to-face with Hank again. He squinted at the yard. “Landlord said the front door was locked from the inside. Perp must have left through here.”

“No, he couldn’t have. No footprints from anyone but Officer Collins.”

“It’s been weeks, tracks could have faded.”

“Not in this soil. It’s still got prints from a month ago and longer, over there, and here.” She pointed them out as clearly as she could. “This kinda dirt, you leave a mark for a long time. And no one’s been out here in a  _ long  _ time.”

He grunted as she moved back inside, closing the doors behind them. “So, what’ve you and the plastic asshole got?”

“Possibly, a reconstruction of the incident,” Connor piped up, stepping out of the kitchen. His LED flickered as he transmitted his simulation to Kay, who rubbed the side of her face as she accessed it- watching the wireframe people-shapes fight, move along, until they met up with the simulation she’d created not two minutes earlier and following that familiar flow.

She nodded slowly. “Seems to match up what we’ve found. Alright, Connor, Walk us through it.”

He seemed confused for a second, but nodded. “Of course. The confrontation began in the kitchen.” He waved them over, motioning to the scene when they were close enough to see it. “The victim attacked the deviant with the bat. The Deviant then grabbed a knife, and stabbed the victim. The victim tried to get away, throwing a chair as he went, and was stabbed again,” He then pointed to the large sticky puddle, “here. The deviant followed the victim through the living room, and there killed him with the knife.”

Hank hummed. “Alright, it’s not ridiculous. But that doesn’t tell us where it went.”

She watched Connor’s vis-feed as he reassessed the data they’d gathered. “The deviant was injured,” he started, “and lost some thirium.”

“Lost some what?”

He lifted his gaze to Hank’s face, repeating, “Thirium. You call it ‘blue blood.’ It’s the fluid that powers android biocomponents. It evaporates after a few hours, and becomes invisible to the naked eye.”

“Huh.” Hank nodded once, slowly, then again as he hit the realization; “But I bet you can see it, can’t you?”

“That’s correct.” He blinked, and his vis-feed took on a blue-grey scheme like hers had when analyzing the body. “Thirium continues to give off UV light for up to three months after evaporation, and is UV reactive for a full year.”

He quickly located a trail, and moved along to follow it. Kay stared at the floor, then the body, and flicked on the UV visual scanner, immediately finding several splashes on the corpse as well as the trail on the floor before flicking it off again. “Holy shit  _ I have ultraviolet eyeballs.” _

Hank’s face scrunched up a bit as he watched Connor walk around, and he slowly leaned on a wall by the kitchen. “So. Experimental procedures.” He paused for a moment, nodding, then fixed her with a look. “You know that’s exactly the kinda bat-shit idea you’d agree to. I shouldn’t be surprised at all.”

She shrugged. “I’ve never been afraid of tech. Worst case scenario, I die, best case scenario, I become the world’s first cyborg with all of my rights and am also the only cyborg because humans as a species can not be trusted with potential immortality.”

“You’re really okay with… this?” He waved his hand vaguely at her. “You’re okay being a robot?”

“I don’t think I count as ‘robot.’ I’m still me. Just… more metal than you’ll ever be.” Her lips quirked into an awkward half-smile, and he snorted in return.

He looked about to say something when Connor returned and picked up a chair. “Hey, hey, hey! What’re you doing with that chair?”

“I’m going to check something,” he explained simply, walking down the hall with the chair. Focusing on his feed, she watched him move to open the attic and haul himself up. Hank mumbled at his back, turning to look at Kay again.

She glanced at him, then away. “...Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t answer for a second. “Keep wondering if I’m gonna wake up and you’re gone.”

That hurt.  _ If she hadn’t stayed for the hard drive, she wouldn’t have traumatized him. _

_ But all of those people wouldn’t have been saved, either. _

“I can promise over and over that I’m real, Hank, but I don’t think it would help. I’m here. We’ll take the rest as it comes.” He started to say something again- this time, he was interrupted by her jerking her head around, trying to follow the figure she’d seen through Connor’s eye. “Sorry,” she smiled weakly. “It’s really weird to see through one eye and have no control of the other.”

Hank made another face, and at the same moment, Connor came face to face with the deviant. Kay straightened up, muttered a ‘holy shit’ and started towards the attic entrance. “He found it.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-explicit sex in this one

The deviant was surprisingly cooperative- at least until they got it into the interrogation room. Once it was cuffed down, it stopped responding at all. Didn’t talk, didn’t fidget, didn’t look at the interrogator or anything except the table between its hands. Hank eventually gave up, leaving the interrogation room to rejoin them in the viewing.

“We’re wasting our time, interrogating a machine.” He dropped into the open chair, glaring at the one-way mirror. “We’re getting nothing out of it.”

“Could always try roughing it up a little.” Kay turned to glare at Reed who was focused on the glass. “After all, it’s not human.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember why you’re here. You’re not on this case, or any related cases, so- you’re just… here to get off on beating an android?”

He sneered. “Sorry, I forgot our new robocop has a soft spot for her brethren.”

“Get the  _ fuck _ out of here, Reed.”

He scoffed, but Connor cut in before he could make any more unnecessary comment. “Androids don’t feel pain. You would only damage it, and that wouldn’t make it talk. Deviants also have a tendency to self-destruct when they’re in stressful situations-”

“ _ Okay,  _ smartass.” Reed shoved off the wall, arms open in invitation. “What do we do then?”

“I could try questioning it.”

Reed gave a mocking laugh. Kay added, “We could. I’m better and sympathizing for a confession, and since it’s a deviant, it might be more willing to speak to an android, like Connor. Or we could good-cop-bad-cop it.” 

He laughed again, throwing his hands around like ‘obviously.’ “Yeah, robots talking to robots.”

“If we’re going to have a _ problem _ , Reed, I’d like you to remember I survived being crushed and my dominant hand is now almost entirely metal. If you wanna take this to the parking lot, I’ll be more than happy to  **bust your god-damn teeth.** ”

The attending officer managing the electronics for the room glaced at the two of them warily as Kay stepped into Reed’s personal space. Reed didn’t back down, working his jaw tensely. “Y’know, you coming back from the dead don’t mean you’re some hot shit around here, Michaels.”

“I mean it’s pretty fuckin’ amazing.”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Hank sighed. “We got nothin’ to lose. Suspect’s all yours, have at it.”

Kay stayed toe-to-toe with Reed until the door beeped open at Connor’s touch. Then she turned and followed him out, rounding the corner directly into the interrogation room.

Connor stood to the side, letting Kay take the chair across from the deviant. She glanced at the file, but didn’t bother to open it- she knew what it said, she’d helped put it together. She looked him over instead, the scanner opening up in her vision even while Connor sent her blips of info from his own scan.

_ Burns on arm, consistent with cigarette snuffing- heavy impact damage to both forearms- previous and current signs of software instability _

“Hey there. I’m Detective Michaels, Detroit Police. I was at the scene when you were taken into custody. Do you remember me?” For a flash of a second, she could have sworn he looked at her, but other than that he didn’t react. She waited a few seconds, but nothing. “You took some damage, yeah? Some of it looks old, but some of its newer. Your thyrium on the bat.” No movement, but his LED flashed red for a second. “I know he hit you at least once. I’d bet money he did it a lot though.” Another flash. “Do you have a name?” Nothing. “Do you want a name?” More flashes.

**This approach doesn’t look to be effective, Kay.**

**Give me time.**

“I know you’ve been through a lot, friend. I want to help. But I need you to cooperate so I can.” More flashes of red, and his eyes moved, but stayed on the table. “I need you to tell me what happened. I can get you out of here, but you have to trust me.”

He slowly sat a little more upright, even turned to look at the one-way, before looking vaguely at her. “What… What are they gonna do to me?” His gaze flickered around, coming to her face for a moment. “They’re gonna destroy me, aren’t they?”

“They want to.” Connor reported increasing stress. “If you don’t cooperate, no one is gonna stop them. If you work with me, I will do everything I can to make sure they don’t. But I  _ need you to help me help you. _ ”

“I don’t want to die.”

“I know you don’t. Please, I need you to talk to me.”

“I- I  _ can’t _ .”

“Why not?” He looked down again and didn’t reply. “Would you rather talk to my friend? He’s an android, too. Would that make you feel better?”

She heard his systems groaning from strain- he had to be more stressed that Connor had estimated, he hadn’t been damaged enough to warrant that level of system disruption.

_ “Why are you doing this?”  _ He whispered, arms starting to shake. “ _ You’re one of us, why are you helping them?”  _

That made her pause.  _ One of them?  _ Did she register as an android to him? “I’m sorry, but I’m not ‘one of you.’ I’m not an android. I’ve just got a lot of prosthetics.” His whole frame was shaking now. “Please, listen to me. If you tell us what happened, we can help.” He curled in on himself, still shaking, and she sighed.

**Kay, we need a different approach.**

**Fine, your turn.**

She slowly stood, pushing the chair back with her legs. “I’m going to stand over here, but my friend is going to talk to you now. Okay?”

He didn’t answer, and she moved aside, letting Connor take the chair while she leaned on the table.

**Don’t hurt him.**

**I have no intention to cause further damages.**

Connor sat quietly for a moment, letting the near silence of the room gain weight before he slid the file over, in front of the HK, and flipped it open. “You recognize him? It’s Carlos Ortiz. Stabbed, Twenty-eight times.” A brief pause, then he slid the page over to show the other photos. “ _ That _ was written on the wall in his blood.” His datashare advised to a stress increase. “You’re accused of Murder. You know you’re not allowed to endanger human life under any circumstances. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

If not for his LED and uniform, she felt it would be easy to believe he was human. He leaned into his words, moved his head and his shoulders like any other person. Was he just well programmed, or was there more to it? She couldn’t honestly say.

“If you won’t talk, I’m going to have to probe your memory.”

“ _ NO!”  _ The HK jerked at that, fear in his face. “No, please don’t do that.” He looked at the one-way again, only for a second before dropping his gaze again.

“You say you don’t want to die, but you aren’t leaving many options. They’ll disassemble you to look for problems in your biocomponents. They’ll have to, to understand what happened.”

His jaw shook. “Why did you tell them you found me? Why couldn’t you have just left me there?”

“I was programmed to hunt deviants. Like you. I just accomplished my mission.”

_ Stress levels above optimal for confession _

“Please, I don’t wanna die.”

“It’s up to you to decide that.”

“Connor,” Kay admonished. “Ease up.”

_ Stress levels optimal _

“You killed a human. They’ll tear you apart if you don’t say something.”

“ _ Connor.” _

He looked at her, face calm, while the deviant shook in his chair. She gave him a stern look in return, and after a moment he turned back to his target. “We can’t spend too much longer waiting. We need your cooperation. Please, tell us what happened.” They sat in near silence for a full twenty seconds. Then Connor sighed. “Then you leave me no choice.”

With no further warning, he reached out to grab the deviant’s less damaged arm, and Kay grimaced, looking away as the deviant whimpered, trying to fight what she knew could be a brutal hack. A few seconds was all it took, and Connor easily broadcast the memory fragments he retrieved through their link; she watched his owner insult him, beat him, watched him bleed and collapse against the wall;  _ I’ll teach you to look me in the eye _

Connor straightened as soon as he was finished, turning to the one-way and announcing, “I accessed it’s memory. I know what happened.” He barely glanced at the deviant as he stood. “We’ve got what we need.”

Kay lightly touched the back of the HK’s hand. “It’s not worth much, but I don’t blame you. He was a piece of shit, and if it wasn’t you it would have been someone else.” She pushed off of the table as Connor placed a hand on the door panel.

She hadn’t taken a full step when a loud  _ bang  _ echoed from behind her, and she barely noticed the officer- Riley, if she remembered right- and Reed walking in as she spun to see him bashing his head against the table. They moved to try and stop it- no success, unsurprising. Connor called out to it as Riley struggled to unlatch it’s handcuffs. It lunged for the officers gun too quickly to catch, and aimed for Connor’s head.

Kay gripped it’s arm hard, pushing through it’s minimal security and shoving it’s aim towards the ceiling.  **I can’t let you hurt them,** She pushed passed his comm. She got nothing but a torrent of emotions in return- fear, anger, desperation.  **Calm down, drop the gun-**

The gunshot rang hard through her head, but not as much as the echo of a bullet through the brain. She didn’t hear herself cry out in pain, was barely aware of crumpling to the floor, clutching her skull to try and hold it together. Connor moved then, zipping passed Reed and kneeling beside her, pressing three fingers firmly to her LED bar and bringing up her core systems. 

The other officers watched with vague mutters as she slowly blinked her eyes open. Connor didn’t so much as twitch until she choked out a swear and moved a hand to the table, and then only to give her room to sit upright.

“Son of a mother  _ fuck.”  _ There were tears in her eyes- where did those come from? “Aah… hey, so… just- just so you guys know. Bullet? Through the brain? It hurts. It hurts a lot.” When she started pulling on the table, Connor wrapped his free arm around her waist and helped her to her feet, steadying her wobbles. “Fuck. Connor- explain. Why.”

“Your log shows it was communicating nonverbally when you tried to calm it. Accepting that feedback opened you to any senses it was receiving, including it’s perceived fear and ultimately it’s death, which overlaid with your senses as if they were your own. If you had attempted a hack, you most likely would have avoided that.”

She frowned, letting him finish separating the sensor feeds and disconnect before replying, “Yeah, alright. That makes sense. Don’t try to brain-talk with a suicidal android, add that to the list of ‘Things I should have known but I’m also an idiot.”

The little pop-up at the edge of her vision closed, and he pulled his fingers away from her head. “How do you feel, Detective?”

“Mm. Mild headache. Mad at myself for fucking it up. Other than that I’m fine.”

He nodded in confirmation and dropped the arm supporting her, taking a step back while she leaned on the table and shook her head. It felt…  _ empty.  _ Like her brain was gone, just bits of fluff left behind. She felt like she should still be in pain, humans weren’t built to get hurt and then have no pain immediately, it was a gradual decrease. But, nonetheless, there was no reason to stick around in the interrogation room and get in the way of the officers who would have to collect the deviant or the janitors who would have to clean up the thyrium left behind, so when Hank started out of the room she followed, and where she went Connor followed.

“Well, at least you got the evidence. This case is closed.” Hank rumbled, half to himself and half to his company in the hallway.

“We’ll be investigating anything deviant related, though. So half closed.” Kay smiled when he threw a glare over his shoulder. “Good enough, right?”

Hank paused at his desk, pulling out his phone to check the time, and immediately swore. “One-thirty in the god damn morning. Fuck this, I’m going home.”

Kay hesitated, nearly missing her chance to catch his wrist as he started towards the doors. “Could… Would you mind if I came with you?” He glanced from their hands to her face, then to the android, and back to their hands. “I haven’t seen you in months, Hank, and when I finally get to see you it’s straight to work. I… I just want to be with you for a while. Unless you  _ don’t,  _ that’s up to you, but- ah.”

He glanced at Connor again. “Sure your new friend can take care of himself?”

She looked at him as well, raising an eyebrow. “Connor, would you be alright going to my apartment by yourself?”

Then it was Connors turn to glance around.  **You… intend to be intimate with Lieutenant Anderson, if I am reading the situation correctly?**

**If he’s willing, that’s the plan, yes. Whatever happens, it’s best if its between the two of us.**

“Of course, Detective. I’m capable of managing myself without direction for a few hours.”

Hank nodded slowly, running a thumb over her knuckles. “Yeah. I think we’re overdue a reunion. Sumo’d love to see ya too.”

She smiled softly, and dug her keys out of her pouch, quickly unclipping her apartment key and handing it to Connor without preamble. “Just don’t go digging through my clothes, alright? We’ll see you in the morning.”

He accepted the key with a nod, bid them good night, and walked out of the precinct without another word. Kay motioned for Hank to lead the way out; neither of them even attempted to separate their hands.

The drive to Hank’s home was quiet, but not quite the same as the drive to the scene. He kept her hand in his except when he needed to shift, and the music, still blasting, was at least not as loud as before. She didn’t even feel motivated to tease him about blasting heavy metal like a teen rebel. They parked, got inside, Kay gave Sumo a few familiar pets while Hank filled his food bowl and topped off his water. They didn’t really stop and look at eachother until they were both standing in the hallway, just a few steps from any other room.

His face looked more worn out than she remembered. His hair was longer- he hadn’t been keeping up his trims, or managing his beard. He could do with a shower- they both could, honestly, after a night in the rain. But he was real, and solid, and there, and there was a storm of emotions on his face when he cupped her face, eyes wet like he was going to cry- he didn’t cry often, it was probably not good for his health, the emotionally constipated jerk- and then he leaned forward and kissed her and all the pain and loneliness of waking up without him, of three and a half weeks without him, all hit her at once.

They fell into bed, quite literally, stumbling as they tried to shuck their clothes without letting go of eachother; his mouth was like fire, planting kisses down her neck and across her collarbones before she pulled him back to her lips; his weight over her was warm and familiar and comfortable, and she was  _ home she was with him he hadn’t abandoned her or moved on hadn’t replaced her hadn’t offed himself in grief, he was real and here and they were together and god how was it possible for her to miss someone so much she felt it in her bones- _

_ Their hands roamed, grasping and sliding and pulling each other closer, trying to memorize, to remember, to chase out the hollowness and the loneliness and the ache that had settled in their souls, the desperate need to confirm they were real, that they weren’t going anywhere. She felt the strength in his hands, holding her hips and feeling her breasts and clutching her face to his like she’d fade away if he didn’t hold on tight enough, and she tried to mind her strength now that she was enhanced but it was so much, so good, she was going to leave more bruises on him than he did her, and then he raked his nails down her back and she arched against him, legs around his waist to pull him closer. It was sloppy and desperate and so perfectly real, and when they were both exhausted he laid over her and they cried and finally, finally, the ache started to ease in her heart. _


End file.
